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All through that long night he knelt beside the bed upon which lay the corpse of the man whom he had loved as a son. The bedroom of Maurice was on the ground floor and the windows looked out onto a little lawn, which was girdled by thick trees in which the nightingales were singing. The sorrowful songs of the birds, flitting in the moonlight and amid the cloistral dusk of the trees, seemed to Jen like a requiem over the young life which had passed away. The major was broken-hearted by the sorrow which had come upon him, and when he issued from the chamber of death he looked years older than when he entered it. It seemed to his big loving heart as though the woman he loved had died anew in the person of her son. "I'm a horrid pig to forget," she whispered contritely. "Don't be cross, Frad dear; you know how sorry I am." "And I am glad to tell you that the youngest of our promising students has also made good in her own department," he said, with a smile at the corner where Judith reared her head with sudden pride..
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"I think it is the best thing you can do," said Jen, brusquely. "By the way, what has become of Dido?" "I'm not half so calm as I look, Miss Pat," she said, seriously. "I'm more excited than I ever was in my life. It's too deep to come to the surface, I guess. I haven't any words for it." Patricia gasped, and in the moment's silence that fell she gave the promising authoress a little shake. Patricia had barely clicked the bolts in the glass upper doors and heard the heavy clash of the wooden contact as Bruce slid the great leaves of the big door into place, when with a swish and sweep the storm broke..
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